


and the sound of his breathing took him away

by farseandfolly



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 10:29:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6150670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farseandfolly/pseuds/farseandfolly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haru rests his head on Makoto's chest, the thumping of his heart echoing through the fabric of his shirt, speeding up as he inhaled and exhaled, his soft breaths heating into Haru's mess of hair.</p><p>And the sound of his breathing took him away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and the sound of his breathing took him away

**Author's Note:**

> (NB:  
> This is based on the events after Makoto's 'announcement' in Episode 11 of Season 1.  
> Also, this is my first oneshot based off of characters that aren't my own, so any feedback would be much appreciated!)

 

" _I'm . . . I'm going to a university in Tokyo_ ,"

And suddenly Haru cannot hear the burst of fireworks that explode behind the silhouette of the taller boy, nor can he hear the excited screaming of children on the beach. His heart is beating - no, _banging_ \- in his chest, drowning his ability to process the words that flow steadily out of the boys lips, the look of guilt displayed in those droopy green eyes.

Makoto's eyes.

The eyes that he stared into every day, the eyes that were always there with him. The eyes that he learned to fall in love with over and over again. The eyes that were always a place comfort.

 _His_ place.

 _His_ comfort.

 _Makoto_.

And suddenly Haru is running, his feet hitting the pavement, sending jolts through his spine as his vision becomes a blur of light and colour, bumping into bodies that he doesn't bother to apologise to because he doesn't care. He doesn't care about anything anymore, even if the liquid streaking his pale cheeks tells him otherwise, even if the nauseating feeling of loneliness yells at him to listen, even if the thumping of his heart and oncoming fear convinces his that he truly is alone without Makoto, and he doesn't know what to do.

Fuck - he's scared.

Scared that Makoto will move to Tokyo and forget about him, scared that all the memories of them together will be lost in the city, swirled into the polluted, foul air and lost forever, and Haru will just be another 'high school friend' like Nagisa, Rin and Rei. He's scared that Makoto won't remember how much they love each other and how much Makoto means to him. He's scared that he'll forget Makoto's musky pine scent and the feeling of his cotton shirts under his fingertips, the warm feel of his strong hands as they envelope his own, the curves of muscle in his back.

 _Makoto_.

Suddenly his body collides with the dark wood of the door and he barrels through it, a force of insecurities and emptiness and anger, fumbling with the doorknob and flying into the dark house. He doesn't stop running until he's reached the bathroom and his blue shirt and pants are lying in a heap on the floor, his Speedo skins tight on his legs like a second layer of skin. Makoto always teases him about his persistence on wearing them underneath his outfits.

 _Makoto_.

The tears are still rushing, an endless, literal waterfall from his blue eyes as his body makes contact with the water, the warm liquid enveloping his body, easing into the curves of his defined muscle, running it's fingertips over the arch of his back and the crook of his legs. He immediately begins to feel less frantic, and his panic is replaced by a deep - seated sorrow that weaves it's way deep into his gut because Makoto is truly the only thing that he has and now it will disappear from him too.

It has never been either Makoto or Haru, it has always been both of them together. It was Makoto and Haru who sat in front of the television at five years old, eating mackerel and watching Finding Nemo after Haru insisted he wouldn't watch anything else. It was Makoto and Haru who were always in the same class, Haru seated by the window and Makoto right next to him. It was Makoto and Haru who watched Ren and Ran while Mr. and Mrs. Tachibana were out late. Now Makoto was leaving him, and it would be just Haru.

Just Haru.

No Makoto.

Just Haru.

No Makoto.

**~~-0-~~ **

And it is Makoto who wakes him frantically, standing over the bathtub and shaking Haru like his life depends on it, until the dark haired boy opens his eyes and matches his vision to the boy standing above him.

 _Makoto_.

_Fuck, Makoto._

Haru doesn't say anything - what is there to say? They stay like that for what seems like ages, Haru's eyes locked on the bright green ones, trying to focus on them so hard that the exact shade of light seeping through trees, the exact angle his eyelids drooped, the exact way his eyes twinkled with childlike humour would be instilled in his memory forever. Eventually, his image begins to blur as the warm feeling fills his eyes again and a single tear drips down his face because a selfish ass like him doesn't deserve Makoto, and maybe it is best that Makoto leaves and finds someone better to love.

 _No, Makoto_.

 _Stay_.

 _Please_.

It is only when the ripple of water hits his leg that Haru realises that Makoto has climbed into the tub, his cotton shirt turning a dark green as the water spreads up the fabric. His muscular arms pull Haru closer to him and shift him until the blue - eyed boy is cradled into Makoto's strong chest, and Makoto is holding his arms around Haru in a strong embrace, kissing the top of his head lightly and gently wiping the tears that ceaselessly spill down Haru's cheeks.

And Haru weeps.

He weeps because words cannot describe how much he loves Makoto, and how elated and weightless he feels whenever he's with him. Words cannot describe his scent, which overwhelms him to the point where he buries his head in the crook of Makoto's neck. Words cannot describe how scared he is to let go of the only person he truly loves with all of his heart, and he wants him to stay forever.

"Don't leave me," Haru murmurs, the weight of his eyelids becoming heavier as Makoto responds with a firm kiss on Haru's forehead and then softly on his lips. Haru rests his head on Makoto's chest, the thumping of his heart echoing through the fabric of his shirt, speeding up as he inhaled and exhaled, his soft breaths heating into Haru's mess of hair.

And the sound of his breathing took him away.


End file.
